Dissolution
by Saja Natalia
Summary: Prussia's dissolution in 1947 required the signature of his best friend, France. This is the tale of that dissolution told from the man who signed that document and, in doing so, betrayed Prussia.


AN: This fic is in response to Imalkikal's fic of the same title located here: http: / www .fan fiction. net/s/ 6462197/1/ . Her's is from Prussia's perspective. Mine, from France's.

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All I had done was sign the document.

To this day, I wonder if I did it out fear or out of obligation. Was I still afraid of the man who had been one of my best friends? Did I fear, instead, the Allies who shared the table with me? Or was it simply that my boss had told me to do it?

The reason doesn't matter. The fact remains. I, France, la republique français, helped to dissolve the Kingdom of Prussia. I, France, helped divide up the resulting land.

I, Francis Bonnefoy, aided in the attempted murder of Gilbert Beilschmidt, and his blood still stains my hands to this day.

I will never forget his face as he stepped into the conference room that fated morning of February 25, 1947. I did my best to hide the fear that had built up inside of me. I was coming face-to-face with the man who had, not seven years earlier, reduced me to a bleeding mass upon the floor of my own home. I hadn't seen him for three years, since I had been liberated from Germany's occupation. The thought of seeing that look in his eyes, that crazed, hungered look that he had given me almost a decade ago, sent shivers down my spine, and I soon felt my stomach turn.

Luckily, his blood red gaze merely glanced over me; America had begun speaking and his attention had been drawn to the self-proclaimed leader of the Allies. "The Prussian State, which from early days…" My mind instantly wandered. I knew the document, not word for word, but I knew precisely what it entailed. I had read it over not too long ago, and the realization hit me that I would have to see Prussia's reaction to the announcement. I would be forced to sit quietly by while I watched as he was told of his death.

I knew not at the time that this had been the second time Prussia had been dissolved.

America's words cut through my thoughts just then. "…The Prussian State together with its central government and all its agencies is abolished." Unbidden, my eyes flew to the albino's face. It was the last thing I wanted, to look that man in the eye as he realized what America had said, but I couldn't stop myself.

The former State of Prussia nodded and turned, muttering something in the horrid German language I had attempted for so long to block out of my head. I pretended not to understand, but I did. "Thank you. Good bye." The words cut like a knife through my heart and again I felt my stomach churn.

Yet the arrangements hadn't all been explained. As soon as he went to leave, Russia snapped that horrid pair of handcuffs around the albino's wrists and told him of his intentions, a smile plastered to his face all the while. I began to turn away, to shield myself from the horror I knew was taking place, but just at that moment, I heard Prussia's voice. "Gehen Sie zu Hölle!"

Go to Hell.

The look in his eyes, the way he tried desperately to escape Russia's hold on him. It…It was too much. As soon as he was dragged, forced, _torn_ from the room, I excused myself from the table. America's laughter still ringing in my ears, I made my way, nearly frantically towards the exit.

It was too much.

Instantly, I fell on all fours behind the nearest bush and ejected the contents of my stomach onto the cold earth. A tear slid down my face and mingled with the pink vomit littering the soil.

"Damn it all."

My gloved fist collided with the ground in an attempt to release some of my anger, some of my guilt, my disgust with myself, but the effort merely resulted in more retching.

It would be forty-three years before East Germany was liberated, several more years before I would speak with him again. And yet, the first time I greeted him, after everything I had done, his eyes still contained that feral expression. He maintained his haughty smirk at he stared me down, as if nothing had happened. Yet I knew, non, I _know_, that my signature upon that document had forever changed our relationship, had forever scarred the both of us.

Perhaps I will go to Hell. God knows I deserve it.


End file.
